Lost fields of elysium?

[Anastasia]

Picture a field - a field of your dreams. The sun shines down from a perfect denim sky to tall grasses and honeysuckle blossoms. The occasional bee flys by, the buzzing of the wings the only noise breaking the serenity of the softly moving wind. The scent of wood smoke and dry grass tickle your nose as your eyes open.

So peaceful. All around, this flawless field...except for one thing. Ahead, where the grass ends and the flowers recede, is a circle of brown-red dirt. In this small circle are two doors. Oaken and polished, they show no wear or tear. Your newly opened eyes regard them with...confusion? Bemusement? Worry?

Where...is this? Who are you? Why are you here? What is this place?

OOC - Just giving this a whirl with someone posting 1-1, making it up as we go along. I'm somewhat assuming the basic GM role, though it's reasonably flexible. Feel free to play with the setup somewhat, within reason.

[Merc]

Uncertainty challenges the core of this strange man, unknown even to himself, as he looks upwards, as if searching for something, though he knows not what. As the sun's rays flow over his face and the soft wind caresses his short walnut hair, he raises an arm to protect his blue eyes from the sun.

Lowering his head, he begins to stare in curiousness at his own arm, blue markings etched on it and snaking along its lenght and into the...sleeve?

Looking now at his own body, he picks at the simple white robe adorning his lithe frame. More confusion penetrates his mind, as he once more stares at the foreign structure in this field.

Even as he wonders if it holds answers to the mysteries that surround this place, including his origin, he begins to move towards it, first at a sedate pace, and quickly speeding to a run as the confusion and uncertainty continue to hound him.

[Anastasia]

In a full, pant inducing run by the time he reaches the clearing, he stops to catch his breath. Hands on his knees as he does so, he can see the two doors. Both have an engraved metal plate in the center, writing on it - too faint to be read from anywhere but close up. The plates shine like gold, polished and burnished to reflect the sunshine like fire.

Each door is otherwise perfectly alike, even down to the patterns in the oak - simple leaves and swirls, pretty and natural. Elegant, even, in tune with the lovely field that reaches to horizon to horizon.

[Merc]

The man feels an odd sensation as he stands a distance in front of the doors in the middle of his chest. An almost...shrinking feeling, like he's trespassing where he is not meant to. This feeling grows as he catches his breath and begins to move closer to the doors, his desire to know the truth, if there is any, defeaning any other rational thought.

Could the doors hold this truth?

He does not know. But his instinct is crying that there is something about them, and he must know. Standing straight before the two, he looks up, hoping for some clue in the writing he could not comprehend from far away.

[Anastasia]

You strain your eyes to read, but it's surprisingly small writing - you're going to need to get right on a door to read it in earnest. It does look like....something you can read.  Eng...English? Common?

Both words float in your mind, like planks in the stormy sea. Are either right?

Damn it.

[Merc]

Frowning, the man tries to pay little thought to the strange words as he moves closer and closer to still to the strange writings. Already, he was learning something and he would have more.

With controlled steps, he creeps closer towards the door to his left.

[Anastasia]

The gold plate is bright and sunsoaked, the light causing you to squint slightly as you peer at it. As you reach it, you can read the inscribed writings. Carved out in a delicate, flowing style, the following words are written.

The starry world above - the seal of the red flower.

[Merc]

'The starry world above - the seal of the red flower?'

The man stares at the inscription silently for a while, trying to decipher some sort of meaning, and failing completely. Turning to the other door, he checks to see if there's something more understandable there.

[Anastasia]

In the same caring and graceful script is another message. As you read it, it is illuminated with blue light - the same blue light on your arms, that now glows in time with the plate.

The earthen caves below - the seal of the blue flower.

Below it, more words form from blue light. There are ethereal and stunning to look at, lulling your mind. Like spellfire or neon...? That gets another frown, as your tempest zone of a mind batters the words around as you say them.

The underground rivers of ELYSIUM.

[Merc]

The man stares in fear between his arms and the new message. Gulping, he shakingly moves to open the door in front of him, the resonance of the blue markings pulsating in rythym with his heart.

[Anastasia]

Reaching out, your hand grasps the knob of the door. It's warm, electricity pulsing through your hand as you do. The cry of a thousand birds echos from the sky, the howling of far away wolves seconding it as you hold the door's knob.

Your arm throbs as you do, aching with a pain new and invigorating, as refreshing as it is agonizing.

[Merc]

Biting his lower lip hard enough to draw some blood, the man ignores the pain as much as he can. He firmly grabs the knob and twists it, seeking to open the doorway to some truth. Wether it is the truth he seeks, shall be seen in a matter of moments.

[Anastasia]

The door opens.

It opens with nary a sound, the joints of the door silent and oiled by some unseen and unknown hand so as to not disrupt the serenity of this world.  Opening, the world becomes starkly black and white in a flash, color reaved away by the gaping portal now in front of you.  There is no chance for words or regrets, as you feel yourself being twisted into a long strand and sucked down it!

The perfect fields become but a memory to you, as...

---

Mmmm. It's wet here, the clogging taste of dirt filling your mouth. Your head swims, as awareness returns slowly.

[Merc]

...beep.


...beep.

...beep.
...beep.
...beep.

...A steady beeping noise tickles the edges of the man's senses as darkness greets his conscious mind. Opening his eyes, dull light floods his vision. A flat white ceiling has replaced the open skies. To his sides, the fields are no more. Instead, a beeping machine with spiking green lines greets him to his right. To his left, the sleeping visage of...who?

He frowns as something dances at the edge of his brain. Another clue to the truth? But what was going on?

[Anastasia]

The beep-beep of the machine grates at your awareness, like talons across the hide of a downed and slain snack for a fierce hawk.  The face to your side is beautiful and feminine, strands of chocolate brown hair dangling from the capped bun it's tied back in.

That...face...regal, and yet...

Yet....damn it. This...place. This prison...this...?